Third Shift
by Technobabble1
Summary: Seven years into their journey, the crewmembers of the third shift feel trapped and annoyed. Their job is just to keep the ship going in the right direction while first shift does all glamorous work. That is until new circumstances force a major shakeup of the Voyager Crew. Can (OCs) Lt. Ainsley Hannigan, CPO Brandi Zappo, Ensign Starok, and other third shift rise to the tasks?


Author's Note: I do not own Star Trek. Only my original characters belong to me, the setting and the established characters belong to their respective owners.

Ainsley's morning

Lt Ainsley Hannigan woke up at 22:00 hours. While she knew it was about time, and was already slightly awake, it wasn't until the recorded bugle reveille played from behind her bed that she accepted it was time to move. The day didn't start until that horn played; it didn't when she was a girl, it didn't when she was a cadet, and it certainly doesn't now. When the bugle hit, Ainsley swung her feet over her cot and placed them on the floor. The carpeting was too warm for her liking; she missed the chilly brace of the concrete MACO bunkhouse floor, even after seven years she kept her old preference. She threw her blanket off of herself, and looked out the window. Every 'morning' she double-checked if any of the signs of home were outside the ship, as if she could see past the blurred lines of stars at warp. But today was no different, just like the past seven years.

Before anything else Ainsley pulled the blankets back onto her bed, tucked them into the proper corners, and smoothed them out. This was not required onboard a ship when you have your own quarters, though it was required by; her father, Starfleet academy, her drill sergeant, and now her own subconscious. So the bed got made and she could feel she could leave her sleeping quarters without any guilt. Before she did so though, she walked over to the small refrigerator she kept in her quarters, and slammed down her morning shake a combination of super fast digesting proteins, carbs, and bio active peptides designed to quickly give energy and calories to burn while being easy on her body and not spiking and crashing her blood sugar. It cost her a month of replicator rations twice a year but she couldn't imagine a morning onboard without it. She had forty minutes to kill before it was fully in her system.

Ainsley walked over to her workstation and opened up her data-screen. There she checked the messages and reports for what she'd have to do today; run through Hazard Team's training course in Holodeck two, consult with Ensign Kim on replicating new weapon designs for energy dampening situations and Borg encounters, and give Cadet Icheb a hand to hand combat lesson, a new duty Tuvok had given her unexpectedly. Today she would also attend one of the staff meetings Tuvok used to discuss the tactical and security matters on Voyager with the lower ranking officers under his comand. It was all and all a pretty boring day.

Her training in life told her to be prepared, and to only think about things that she could control. Since she wasn't scheduled to use the holodeck for several hours, she had way to study Icheb's martial background, she instead decided to look through the schematics for the weapons she wanted replicated. She was already pretty convinced that the 2024 FN SCAR H Mark V aka the DeGreener would work admirably. One had been passed down through her family since it was assigned to her ancestor in World War III, and it still fired perfectly even after being dragged through dozens of climates and conditions on earth and off-world. Still, Ainsley knew Harry Kim would want something more advanced, as though adding bells and whistles and convoluted energy systems would truly improve upon the design that saved civilization from Colonel Green. Deciding to at least pretend to be open minded she looked at more 'modern' weapons, they had some interesting qualities such advanced magnetic launch systems, integrated targeting sensors, ionized field generators to keep dirt off, but really Ainsley wasn't impressed. These 'modern' enhancements were just things that can break, be tampered with, or otherwise be more trouble than they were truly worth in the field. Ainsley's mind was made up. She'd force Ensign Kim to make DeGreeners for the security and tactical teams.

After her journey into the history of firearms, Ainsley's stomach told her it was time to get out of her room and go exercise. She entered her lavatory to brush her teeth and make sure her face was presentable enough for her morning routine. She was going to the gym and was going to sweat, so she didn't bother with a full sonic shower or to put on her makeup. She brushed her dark brown hair into her usual pixie, brushed her teeth, and rolled on her unscented deodorant. She'd bother with a full beauty routine later.

After she was sure that her hygiene was up to snuff, she threw on her silver sweat repellent leggings and top under her yellow shouldered uniform and her athletic shoes instead of her usual boots. Following that she filled her favorite red bottle with one quart of water before mixing it with berry flavored AE (Amino Electrolyte) powder, a supplement that thankfully was very easy on her replicator rations budget. With drink in tow she walked through the corridors of her deck to the gymnasium. She had chosen her quarters just so she wouldn't have to get into a turbo lift to go to the gym.

The gymnasium aboard Voyager was standard for a federation starship of its size. There were three rows of treadmills, stair climbers and other cardio equipment. Them it was the gravity weight lifting equipment was in one third, another third was a basketball or indoor soccer court, and finally there was a series of studios to be used for racquetball, martial arts, or other exercises that required a specialized area. It was in was in the weightlifting section that Ainsley saw two of her friends already hard at work. They were Ensign Starok; a very lean and muscular rusty tanned Vulcan with wild eyebrows and a thick goatee, and Petty Officer Canut Gunnarson; a hulking and wide blonde man with a golden beard and prodigious mullet. Starok was bench pressing a gravity weight barbell, presumably set to several hundred pounds, while Canut stood over him yelling encouragement. "Come on Starok, you're got it man. Give me one more." Ainsley peeled off her uniform as the Vulcan went above and beyond that request.

Starok roared as he forced his way through three more sets before handing the bar back to Canut. "That was GLORIOUS!" he screamed.

Ainsley clapped her hands and walked over to her friends. "What was that guys. Seven hundred?"

"Eight." Starok answered. "It is a new personal record. "

"Impressive" Ainsley answered. Then she looked into Starok's eyes. Starok was living proof eyes were not the window to the soul. His were electric blue and patterned with receptors and circuitry. They were cold and lifeless. The tissue surrounding them was a long and ugly horizontal scar running from temple to temple. That scar told the story that his eyes no longer could. The scar told the story of a man defined by battle. "What's next for you two?" the Lieutenant asked her friends.

Canut spoke up "today is all about moving the heaviest weight we can. Benching, deadlifts, and Squats. After that it's time for kettlebell carries, and then some sparring." Ainsley wasn't even surprised that Canut and Starok would do brutal heavyweight exercises and still have time for sparring before their duty shift even started. Canut was a neo-Norseman from the planet of Midgard, and considered fighting, either unarmed or swords and axes to be an essential part of his being. He pretty much needed to spar. Starok, a Vulcan raised by Klingons on Qo'noS was probably the only other person on the ship with the warrior mentality and raw physical strength to be a sparring partner Canut wouldn't have to go gentle on. Both men were former Maqui under the command of Chakotay. It took Ainsley a while to warm up to them, after all the reason she was on Voyager was to kill them if it came to fighting mano-a-mano, but when you're stuck on a small ship you learn to make friends quickly.

"Lt. Hannigan!" was yelled sternly across the room. Ainsley immediately recognized the voice as Seven of Nine, who actually didn't learn to make friends quickly, having spent three years in her shell before finally trying to be more personable with lower ranking crew. Ainsley had invited her to exercise together. It was a polite gesture that backfired when the former drone actually accepted. Apparently Seven was getting better at the verbal judo necessary to turn polite small talk into actual plans.

"Hey Seven." Ainsley replied as she turned around. "How are you?" Seven was wearing the standard issue silver leggings and top of regulation workout clothes, Borg implants showing on her arms. Ainsley sized Seven up quickly; tall, long limbs, tiny waist and oversized bust, and she lacked raw muscle mass despite a well shaped set of gluts. Aesthetically seven was perfect, but Ainsley doubted she'd have much functional ability. Ainsley had at least thirteen kilograms on Seven, and almost all of it was hard earned muscle.

"I am well. How are you Lieutenant?" Seven asked.

"Call me Ainsley. I'm not on duty for a while. These are my friends. Ensign Starok and Petty officer Gunnarson."

"NuqneH" Starok chimed. The proper Klingon greeting best translated into "What do you Want?" Ainsley hoped that Seven took it more as "How are you?" if only because she didn't want to be on the bad side of Captain Janeway's pet Borg. The Viking tried a bit harder than the adopted Klingon to be polite "Godan morgan." 'Good Morning' in Norse. "Call me Canut." He said as he eased himself under the barbell.

"Pleased to meet you." Seven seemed slightly confused; apparently this level of casual familiarity was new ground for her. "How would you like to proceed with exercise?" she said as she faced Ainsley directly.

"Well we can either join these two as they attempt to Brutalize themselves and bathe in their own testosterone" Ainsley replied. "Or you can grab two jump ropes, pair of dumbbells weights, crank them to 30 pounds and a medicine ball set to 10 and follow me. First a quick twenty minutes of fast twitch power-cardio then if you're up to it half an hour of Dynamic Yoga."

"that sounds efficient." Seven agreed. The former Borg drone followed Ainsley to the equipment wall, gathered her recommended gear, and followed Ainsley to the martial arts studio. Ainsley saw the drone had no fear about this workout. Hopefully she could keep up.

Ainsley readied a jump rope and ordered the computer to activate training program Hannigan 4. "jump as hard as you can for 30 seconds, and then rest for fifteen seconds. We'll repeat seven times." She told seven. "Computer engage program." Ainsley immediately swung the rope under her feet and started counting. Seven followed suit. One time, Ainsley no problem. two times no. three times she started to feel the burn. By the seventh time, her heart was racing. Seven stayed stoic as a Vulcan.

"Now follow my lead. Twenty seconds of exercise, twenty seconds of rests." They did three sets of high leaping jump squats, Three sets of high speed power push-ups, and three sets of cleans (bringing the dumbbells to shoulder level from the floor while exploding out of squats). Ainsley started to feel it when they got to throwing medicine balls the medicine balls overhead. After three of that, Ainsley checked on seven who to Ainsley's mild surprise and annoyance was showing no sign of difficulty. The next exercise was to hit the heavy bags. After her fifteen seconds to recuperate, Ainsley attacked the heavy bag with a high octane combination. One blow after another rained upon the bag. Every punch contained the full power of Ainsley arms and back. Ainsley watched as Seven of Nine managed to match her match her blow per blow. Seven's strikes were perfectly measured, methodical and hard. Normally people did this exercise with primitive passion, with a gleam in their eyes and a grunt in their breath. Ainsley respected the ex-Borg for her dispassionate assault on the bag, but was a disquieted by it. Was Seven too evolved a person to even think of violence during exercise, or was she such a machine that violence didn't even register with her?

After seeing that the punching bag didn't wear Seven out, Ainsley just gave up even pretending that her workout would defeat Seven. There were another three sets of cleans, medicine ball throws and bag work, three sets of resistance band crunches and finally reach and slams of the medicine balls. This was one of Ainsley's favorite exercises. The two women extended their arms fully over their shoulders to the right, threw the balls to the ground, caught them and repeated to the left. Ainsley let out a satisfied grunt with each throw. At least one of the two of them was going to show a little animal nature during this workout. After the final set of slams the familiar voice of the computer yelled "Workout complete." Ainsley roared "You feeling good Seven?"

Seven breathed heavily through her nose, Ainsley saw that she was sweating, "that was a very vigorous cardiovascular and anaerobic workout. But I am undamaged."

"Good to hear." Ainsley smiled before she sipped another AE drink. "Do you still want to do the dynamic yoga?"

"If it's alright with you Lt. Hannigan, I believe I'll take a shower. I do not feel that I should participate in any more strenuous physical activity for a while."

Ainsley crossed her arms and cocked her head. "Really?" Seven must be hurting far more than she was willing to show. Ainsley could barely contain her grin. "Good game Seven. I'll see you later alright?"

With her nostrils flaring Seven nodded, "Enjoy your exercise Lieutenant."

"Have a great day Seven." Ainsley said as she waved her goodbye. Now she respected Seven, and at least now she was trying to be friendly. Maybe she'd invite Seven to do something fun sincerely next time. Any non-athlete who could handle her workout deserved a little more consideration as an acquaintance. Ainsley took another chug of her drink before shouting "Computer activate program Hannigan Yoga One." She took her shoes off and pulled a mat from the corner of the studio. "begin program."

For the next thirty minutes Ainsley went through her yoga program. It was Power Yoga, a system designed to be more demanding than the traditional schools of the Indian stretching art. Dynamic tension was key; squeezing and stretching so that every fiber of the muscle would end up activated and utilized. She controlled her every breath. She focused totally on feeling her body move, tense, and stay, letting go of all other thoughts. There was nothing but her breath, her blood flow, and her body. This clear mental state was more precious to her than anything else. She used to think of of working out as a fun necessity with the side benefit of relaxation. Now she thought of it as the very key to her continued sanity onboard a ship that tested her patience on a constant basis.

"Program complete" the computer chirped. Ainsley now covered in sweat got up and grinned. She now had one hour before her shift started. Enough time to clean up and have breakfast. She walked out of the studio across the gym and into her quarters.

As she entered her quarters she heard a strange sound, but one she recognized all too well; snoring. Specifically it was the snoring of her best friend, Chief Petty Officer Brandi Zappo. Brandi was wearing a curve hugging red dress and had thrown off a pair of long red high heeled boots, her two tone blond and red hair messy around her heart shaped face, and her prodigious makeup messed up around her usually attractive features. "Brandi! What are you doing here?" Ainsley asked.

Brandi didn't even move when she answered "Sleeping'" In her heavy Itoian accent, which seemed to combine an exaggerated version of the major cities of the American northeastern states; Chicago, New York, Boston etc.

"I guessed that. Why are you sleeping in my room? And why are you wearing your honey trap dress?"

"I was out with Scott last night at the shore program. I wanted to impress him. When I got home, Quinn and Remy were being really noisy. It's gross. I worked a double shift and spent five hours on the Holodeck with Scott. I need some sleep. I figured you wouldn't mind if I crash here." Brandi answered before rolling over.

Ainsley was all too sympathetic to Brandi's plight. She also felt slightly responsible. She was the one who set Brandi's roommate Quinn and Remy up two years ago. Ainsley knew that Brandi would bring that up if Ainsley didn't allow her to stay. Knowing there was no way out of this, Ainsley smiled and said "Of course not. You can stay here as long as you'd like.' Ainsley just hoped Brandi wouldn't get her heavy eye shadow and bronzer all over her cushions.

"Need help with your makeup?" Brandi asked. Brandi was the ship's unofficial beautician. At one point or another she had done the makeup and hair for every female on the ship, from Captain Janeway to the lowliest crewman. Ainsley availed herself of Brandi's services every once in a while, but didn't want to bother her friend with it right now.

"No thanks." Ainsley answered as she entered the lavatory with a clean uniform folded under her arm. She undressed, entered, and let the high frequency waves wash over her, at a dirt shaking volume that was a pitch that human ears could barely hear.

Ainsley smiled and sighed as she wiped her moisture pad over her freshly sound-pelted skin. Her cleansing done, Ainsley stepped out of her shower, pulled her uniform on, and proceeded to put on her face. Unlike Brandi, who stretched the boundaries of what cosmetics she could get away with sometimes, Ainsley stayed fairly conservative; some tinted moisturizor, a little peach lip balm and a quick subtle mascara job to bring out her amber eyes. Done in ten minutes flat. Were Brandi conscious she'd probably be proud.

As if the universe itself was on a tight schedule that day, Ainsley's communicator beeped. "Lt. Hannigan. Please report to my office as soon as you're ready." The voice belonged to Captain Janeway. Ainsley tapped her Communicator to answer. "Yes Ma'am. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"I'll hold you to that. See you then."

Ainsley grumbled and went back to her refrigerator. She was not going to face the Captain on an empty stomach. Brandi popped up when the lieutenant got too close. "Stop feeling so much." She groaned. "You know I can tell your emotions."

"It's not my fault your mom was a Betazoid." Ainsley replied as she grabbed a Bashir bar. "The Captain just called me to her office."

"Don't worry about it. I bet your just getting offered a promotion, probably Tuvok's job. I hear he's been getting sick. And he's always worried and confused anymore. Yeah that's my bet, you're up for security chief." This possibility eased Ainsley's mind as she munched down the nutritionally dense super food. Having an emphatic best friend was possibly the best intelligence move you could have on a small ship.

"If that's true than wish me luck. And get used to calling me commander." Ainsley smiled as she walked out of her quarters, leaving her friend to rest in peace. Ainsley hoped that Brandi was right. But she couldn't really be. Nobody gets a real promotion on Voyager. That's just the way it is. But Brandi could read people easier than most people read datapads, so if Tuvok really was sick and needed to step down, Ainsley was up there on the list of people who'd be up for his position. Ainsley decided this would have been much less confusing if she got to eat a real breakfast.


End file.
